Yea, I will extol Thee

Lord of life and light,

For Thine arm upheld me,

Turn'd my foes to flight;

I implored Thy succour,

Thou wert swift to save,

Heal my wounded spirit,

Bring me from the grave.

Sing, ye saints, sing praises!

Call His love to mind,

For a moment angry,

But for ever kind;

Grief may, like a stranger,

Through the night sojourn,

Yet shall joy, to-morrow,

With the sun return.

In my wealth I vaunted,

"Nought shall move me hence;

Thou hast made my mountain,

Strong in Thy defence:"--

Then Thy face was hidden,

Trouble laid me low,

"Lord," I cried right humbly,

"Why forsake me so?"

"Would my blood appease Thee,

In atonement shed?

Can the dust give glory?--

Praise employ the dead?

Hear me, Lord, in mercy,

God my Helper, hear."

--Long Thou didst not tarry,

Help and health were near.

Thou hast turn'd my mourning

Into minstrelsy,

Girded me with gladness,

Set from thraldom free:

Thee my ransom'd powers

Henceforth shall adore,

Thee, my great Deliverer,

Laud for evermore.